Art
A girl and her search
Evan Anthony
"As a little girl in Transylvania, Gyongyi knew she was going to paint." No, it's not the beginning of the plot outline for an operetta, but it could give you an inkling of things to come. Now exhibiting at the O'Hana Gallery, Carlos Place, her work that represents "two and a half years of artistic insights," Gyongyi, we learn, was also "one of New York's top fashion models." (Don't go away, there's more.)
" Each [painting] represents the artist's search for the spirit hidden beneath the surface of every living thing — and her attempt to set that spirit free." From which, and from her pictures, it would seem that that little girl from Transylvania became a victim of penal servitude — the male member popping up (and down) frequently in her work. And there is, quite naturally, attention paid to female pudenda, too . . . but I mustn't go on hitting below the belt.
Now that I have your attention, at the Marlborough Fine Art, Albemarle Street, Graham Sutherland's most recent work is presented with the usual Marlborough panache. As a doyen of British art, Sutherland commands immediately respectful attention and patronage, the former of which I can afford while suggesting that his private iconography makes it difficult to warm to his work. Each painting has at least one section which seems beautifully complete in itself but which tends to get lost in the general scheme of things. There is a good deal of background in the pictures, often a gorgeous green, skilfully worked, interestingly scratched, toned, textured — but it rarely appears to be more than a good deal of background.
The horizontal shelf in almost all the paintings is a harsh, monotonous feature, with a bowl resting on it, containing a wealth of flora and fauna or nuts and bolts. Sutherland's invention looks more earthbound than I suspect is intended. I can't, in fact, really quarrel with the two elderly ladies who stood inside the gallery door waiting for the great man to arrive, like fans at the Palladium: "I don't really understand them but there must be some deep meaning, don't you think?" Yes, I do; even when they suggest plans for a painting or a plumbing system or a ballet set.
At Gimpel Fils, Ben Nicholson is not to be missed, even .if you don't have a spare £16,000 to buy A Inwick, Nicholson's homage to Rothko. It is the sort of exhibition you might go to the Tate to see, but there's no admission charge here.
There's not a line nor a paint stroke to spare in the work of this master of form, line and texture; and when you look at White relief: Triplets — oil on carved board, with two circles and one square carved out — you may be amused by the incidental intelligence that the picture was completed and signed on October 2, 1934.
The next day, his wife, Barbara Hepworth, gave birth to triplets — two girls and a boy. That's the story, anyway.
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